


He Has Earned His Thirst

by coldcomfort



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Dark Derek, Hurt Stiles, Lord of the Manor Derek, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Servant Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-23 19:39:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6127905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldcomfort/pseuds/coldcomfort
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is a tormented aristocrat who has locked himself away in grief. The appearance of a new servant boy stirs dangerous desires to the surface...</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <em> Keeping his eyes firmly down the boy turned to his left and hesitantly laid the tray on the bedside table. He went to take a step back, clearly readying to leave but Derek's hand shot out, clasping his wrist roughly. 'I didn't say leave'. <em></em></em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Please be aware that this story contains dark themes and heed all the tags above.

Derek hears a grounds keeper cross the gravel below his window for the third time before he opens his eyes. The weak dawn light falls finely into the room through a crack in the thick drapes.

He knows that in many rooms of this house there will be nothing but ceaseless action and noise, the pre dawn hours are some of the busiest for the servants of an estate like this. Clothes will already be dampened by sweat and muscles aching with labour but this room is still and silent and the effort of merely opening his eyelids seems like an exhausting feat this morning. As it has every morning for as long as he can remember.

Grief has been his companion for more years than he cares count and whilst it may be a selfish, controlling friend, it is at least constant and steadfast. It's dulled all the sharp edges and created the dense haze through which he watches the world spin by, safely and from a distance.

The continued wearing of his mourning clothes, the only linens to be kept clean and perfectly laundered in his closet, is another stone in the wall he's built around himself. His friends may call it morbid and self indulgent during their many incessant attempts to reintroduce him to society but he cares not. He has tried that life before and it has only ever led to pain. He is many things but he is no fool and will not make the same mistakes twice.

The grey light falls on an envelope lying on his writing desk. It arrived yesterday, an invitation from a well-bred local family for a formal dinner. It is of course understood that a gentleman of his standing must be invited to every dreary and insignificant gathering in the local parish, anything else would be considered an insult. It is just as clearly understood that each solicitation will receive the small, crisp card stating 'with regret' in the hands of an immaculate, intimidating footman.

The thought of society in the country fills Derek with dread, and not a little disdain. His social interaction has lessened over the years to a handful of occasions in the last 12 months and these have been exclusively in town. Aside from a couple of stiff dinner parties with old friends of his family who made little attempt to hide their shock at his strange manner and appearance, the rest of his outings have been to his club, dining and playing cards into the early morning with other gentlemen who have the means to do almost anything they wished but a mind to do nothing at all.

On one of these visits the dining had outweighed the card playing and he'd found himself stumbling in the cold down Sloane Street and into the noxious warmth of a brothel just off Cadogan Square.

Derek shifts in his bed, rolling from his back onto his side, burying his head in the cool pillow, the sharp sting of humiliation still present in the memory of that evening causing a small moan to escape and bury itself in his bedding. The image of the young woman's face as he backed away from her and the feel of the stifling heat of the room were all suddenly vivid and real. The revolting perfume that the whore had been drenched in seemed to cling to his very sheets.

Derek pushed himself up taking gulps of air and put out a shaking hand to grasp the glass of water that lay by his bed. The water was stale and not that cool but a few gulps helped clear his mind a little, he felt the panic curl back and the calming haze fell back into place, covering and shielding his mind once more.

He'd known the whore house had been a mistake from the moment that young fop from Hertfordshire had announced his intentions for the evening and invited Derek to join him. At the time he'd blamed the strong drink that had been flowing all evening but now, alone and in the cold light of day, he can be honest enough to himself that it was desire that dragged him through the icy streets that night. The hunger to touch a warm, soft body and to be touched in return. Recently it felt like a starvation, the craving so fierce and strong that at times it burnt through the mist of his thoughts and he felt clear and sharp for the first time in years.

He fell back against his bed, hands covering his eyes, pushing against them until he could see white spots against his lids. He knew he needed to get up, needed to make his appearance as the starched, grim, lord of the manor. His presence was required to ensure the servants did not falter, did not start to slacken and let things slide. The estate was large and despite his discipline and attention to detail it was a constant worry to him that it might go under, and with it his family's heritage, pride and history.

But for some reason even that fear could not move him to stir from his bed this morning. He remained reclining against the soft, down pillows, eyes shut like a child hoping the monsters would disappear if they kept them closed for long enough.

He heard the soft click of his bedroom door handle turning and then the gentle glide of the door against the plush carpet as it opened. His eyes remained shut, knowing it was simply a chamber maid bringing up his breakfast as they did every morning. He only took breakfast in the dining room on the rare occasions he had guests to stay, the action reminding him too painfully of life with his family, when the dining hall had buzzed with chatter and noise at every meal.

Soft steps made their way carefully across the floor, past the end of the bed and down the side towards where he lay. They were halting and light, as if their owner was nervous. Realising for the first time that the person who stood next to his bedside could not be neither Erica or Kira, both of whom never failed to strut quickly and confidently through the door each morning depositing his tray heavily on his desk where by this time he would almost always be, already starting to work his way through the endless correspondence and legal documents which seemed to form an ever tighter seal enveloping his life.

His eyes opened to take in a young boy, surely no more than sixteen, clutching the breakfast tray so tightly his knuckles were white, stood mere inches from where Derek lay.

He was slender, the rough cotton of his servant's shift hanging loosely from his delicate frame. His skin was smooth and pale, dotted with moles, skin that would make the spoilt society girls he knew weep with jealousy. Derek lifted his eyes to the boy's face, took in the fine planes of his cheekbones, the exquisite moulding of his features highlighted by the soft, early morning light framing his head, short, light brown hair curling into his nape. His eyes were turned downwards in subservience and his plump, pink lips were slightly open, breathing a little heavily, whether from nerves or the long walk from the kitchens, Derek couldn't be sure.

All he could be sure of was the sudden, violent bolt of lust that shot through his body and mind at the sight of this sweet boy before him. The milky fog of grief that kept a permanent residue across his mind instantly shifted, was pushed away by this rush of thirst that made the needs he'd felt on the night of his trip to the brothel seem anaemic and feeble by comparison.

'Put the tray down'. His first words of the day came out rough, heavy with sleep and lust.

Keeping his eyes firmly down the boy turned to his left and hesitantly laid the tray on the bedside table. He went to take a step back, clearly readying to leave but Derek's hand shot out, clasping his wrist roughly. 'I didn't say leave'.

 


	2. Chapter Two

He increased his grip until he felt the sharp edge of the boy's wrist bone dig hard into his fleshy palm. He heard a shallow gasp of breath from the youth as he stilled, the sound making his dick fill, the blood rushing downwards as he thought of the boy making those little gasps as he lay beneath him, skinny thighs spread apart as Derek thrust into him roughly.

'Sir?' That hesitant voice brought him back to the moment, though the fantasy of a moment ago was still rolling through his mind as his eyes looked upon the servant once more.

This time large brown eyes were gazing back at him, spooked and questioning. Derek couldn't deny it wasn't only his beauty that drew him in but also his nervous, delicate energy. It lit some secret warmth inside of him, a need he hadn't known existed, a need to hold down, overwhelm and engulf this tender creature.

He lurched forward, this sudden, dangerous impulse taking full control of his body and mind, driven only by the thoughts of 'mine, need, claim'.

Half out of the bed, one foot on the floor, he grabbed the boy by his thin upper arms and lifted him up, pulling him over the bed and throwing him back against the numerous pillows. For a brief moment he took in his expression, eyes bright with fear, forehead creased with confusion and pink lips in a round o of shock.

Then he was on him, hands hard and merciless and everywhere, pulling at his clothes, roaming over flawless skin, revelling in it's warmth and softness. Derek wrenched the tunic up over his head, had thrown it away to the side and was starting to tug downwards at his britches, stiff, worn fabric and already a little too loose, when he heard the hushed, rasping 'no's' that were falling in a quiet chant from the boy's mouth. Derek let his body fall heavy over him, pressing the slight frame deeper into the thick bedding and crushed his lips against those softly whispering ones. Instantly they clamped shut, as closed down as the rest of his body was. Tightly closed legs, closed eyes and now closed lips.

With one hand clamped firmly at the back of the servant's head and the other gripping his shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise, Derek bit down hard on the plump, pink lower lip in front of him. The moment he opened his eyes and mouth in sudden shock Derek thrust his tongue inside that warm, wet heat. He licked fervently, deeply into his mouth, shoving his tongue so far down his throat that he started to gag slightly.

As he continued the assault on his lips, he reached down between the tight press of their bodies and, with one hard shove, pushed the boy's britches and undergarments down to his thighs.

This action prompted the first physical struggle since he'd thrown him on the bed. Weak hands scrabbled at his shoulders, trying to push his heavy body up and away. Derek raised himself up on his arms and for a brief moment saw a flicker of relief cross that pretty face as he thought Derek had clearly changed his intentions.

He sat back, bottom resting on thin, trembling thighs, leaning forward to grip his chin tightly in his hand.

Staring fiercely into his eyes he growled 'You do _not_ defy me, you _will_ let touch you in any way I wish or the consequences to you will not bear thinking about. Do. You. Understand?'

The entire speech was hushed, the power and command of his voice enough to still that pathetic scratching. The expression in those eyes questioning for a moment as he gazed directly into Derek’s face, then shifting as if his question was answered, his eyes lowering and his shoulders sagging, giving into the inevitable of what was going to happen to him in this bed.

Derek wasn't entirely sure why those few simple words worked so well but he suspected that either fear of his reputation had already been ingrained in the servant or the potential loss of his obviously new job was simply not an option, probably a combination of both.

Derek didn't particularly care for the reason as long as it continued to play into his hands. He didn't know where this overwhelming urge to dominate, bruise and downright ruin this beautiful creature came from, he'd never felt anything this powerful before and had no intention of stopping this joyous euphoria no matter where it might lead.

He leaned back once he realised the boy's struggles had stopped. Once again he sat rested against his thighs, held tightly together with his britches and undergarments bunched around them. He took this moment to look his fill upon the beautiful sight in front of him.

Once he'd given in the boy had turned his head to the side, looking toward the open window, a glazed stare at the blue morning sky, perhaps wishing for escape. Derek took in the faint blush of exertion and shame across his cheeks, followed it down his delicate throat to his gently heaving chest, small dusky pink nipples standing out in the cold. His penis lay softly between his thin thighs with a dusting of dark hair surrounding it. His entire body was trembling beautifully and his arms fell back either side of his head, hands grasping at the fine linen of the pillow as if that would give anchor to his churning terror.

Lifting up onto his knees, Derek took hold of the material bunched around his thighs and pushed them down. Twisting around he pulled them from his ankles and threw them to the side to join the boy's tunic on the floor. Turning back to face him and resting back against those smooth, bare thighs, he reached up to his own shoulders and pulled his night shirt up over his head. The fine, expensive silk shift slid from his body leaving him totally bare, thick muscled thighs and taut buttocks pressed against the boy's skinny legs.

He leaned forwards, once more pressing his entire body against his captive's, thigh to thigh, chest to chest and once more crushing his lips to his. As he pushed his tongue inside he bought his hands up to grip the youth's, flattening them further into the bedding.

He started to move his body in brutal, hot thrusts, rutting against the slender body beneath him with no care or finesse, revelling in the warm, soft skin and fragile bones. He hadn't touched his cock but the friction had fattened it, full and hard, sliding against the boy's groin and stomach. Derek could feel a shaky rhythm building as he shoved himself greedily against the body beneath him.

A sudden, furious thought pulsed through his overheated, fogged mind. He stopped mid rut, lifted his mouth from the boy's, a clear thread of saliva still linked from his lips to those now reddened, frenzy bitten lips below him. There was a part of his body that he hadn't seen yet, that he was desperate to see, touch, bite. Ignoring that pale face, eyes clenched shut, cheeks streaked with tears, he grabbed his shoulders and roughly turned him over onto his front. He let out a squeal of shock that was quickly muffled by the soft pillows as Derek pressed his head into them with the heel of his hand.

Kneeling on the bed beside him, Derek trailed his right hand down from his head to between his sharp shoulder blades, pressing down firmly to hold him in place. His eyes followed his left hand which touched the smooth, creamy skin of his back, then glided down, large hands standing out dark against the slim body. It grabbed and kneaded the delicate skin, touch getting rougher the nearer they got to their destination, those two perfect round globes of flesh, the very thought of which had Derek growling, frenzied with desire, the same fervour which had stopped him so suddenly only seconds earlier from rutting out his completion onto the boy's soft belly. He gripped one of his buttocks, revelling in it's taut beauty.

Without thought he dropped down and sank his teeth hard into the tender flesh.


	3. Chapter Three

He heard the boy cry out in pain and felt the tang of iron on his tongue. He sucked at the wound he'd made, his senses overpowered, the bitter taste of the blood in his mouth, the sweet, clean smell of the young skin all around him and the velvety feel of it beneath the palm keeping him pressed into the bedding.

Still sucking and licking the same spot Derek moved his other hand to the tight pink hole hidden in the dark cleft just to the left of where he had his cheek pressed, so near he could smell the sweet, musky scent of it. He brushed the tip of his middle finger against the tense furl, relishing the gasp of shock it produced. Undeterred he pushed his finger in to the first knuckle, feeling the incredible heat, the muscle spasming wildly, the yelp of pain it induced. He prodded his finger around, into the soft walls then gradually withdrew it, holding it up to his nose and inhaling the pungent essence of the youth.

He was too tight and Derek's lust too strong for him to take him that way at this moment he realised. Any kind of patience and control had evaporated the moment he pulled the boy down onto his bed and it would take a tremendous amount of restraint and careful attention to take such a young, inexperienced child for the first time without damage.

Derek knew that he was hurting him, taking his innocence in a terrifying and demeaning way yet he allowed the fog of selfish desire and want to push those thoughts away, to be dwelt upon when he was alone and grieving once more in the dark. However some sliver of decency must have remained, enough to spare the boy that ultimate defilement this morning.

Instead he lowered himself down onto that slight body, his chin tucked into that smooth neck, lips pressed to his jaw, every part of his heavy, sweat soaked body cleaved to the one below, his thick cock and swollen balls coming to rest below that sweet bottom, nestled between quivering thighs.

This position triggered sudden panic once again in the boy who thrashed his head blindly from side to side, whispering 'please, please' over and over, that quiet voice rattling with the nerves and hysteria swamping his mind.

'Ssshh...' Derek clamped a hand to the side of his head, keeping him locked face to face, lips almost touching and clenched his strong thighs hard against skinny legs which had started to thrash out. 'Lie still and this won't hurt child' Derek whispered into his mouth. 'I promise' he breathed out almost tenderly, a marked contrast to everything else that had taken place in this bed.

That unexpected tenderness seemed to shock the boy into stillness once more. Tears filmed his haunting, brown eyes and Derek could see the moment he simply gave in cross like a shadow in their depths. With a slight nod to indicate compliance and a sad, breathy sigh he turned his face down into the pillow and his hands that lay either side of his head slackened, fingers flexing loosely into the soft bedding.

Derek started to move, slow shallow thrusts that nevertheless made his head spin with the heat and friction they created. The feel of the heated body beneath him and the mellow, sweet scent of the hair tickling his nostrils heightened his movements, increasing their frenzy.

He reached down between them, palming his painfully swollen cock for a moment then placing it between those tightly clenched buttocks so that with each thrust it brushed over his puckered hole. He would have given half his fortune for a phial of oil to appear at that very moment but he knew very well that there was none kept in his room. Luckily the pre come leaking heavily from his dick combined with the damp, sticky sweat pooling between their hot bodies gave Derek enough slide to rut frantically, hips shoving harder, pelvis convulsing madly as lust consumed him.

Both hands now once again pinning the boy's against the bed, mouth pressed, gasping into his neck, as his thrusts picked up, drilling him hard into the mattress he heard his breath heaving out heavily in time to each impact.

Derek started to suck on the dampened skin before him, that glorious warmth he hadn't felt in so long building in his groin, his hips now moving wildly, chasing his desire, his cock encased by that tight crack of hot, dampened skin, his balls slapping the back of slim thighs. As he lost control, he grabbed the boy by the throat, shoving forward with all his strength for those last few thrusts, coming hard with a cry, spurting his seed over his back.

Derek panted, exhausted, breath humid in the hollow of his neck, his whole body trembling with the force of his orgasm. His right hand was still around that fragile throat and he stroked it gently, feeling more than hearing the gentle sobs that fluttered from it.

Stretched out over him he whispered in the boy's ear 'When I move you'll get up, dressed and leave this room. You'll not say a word about this to anyone.'

He paused. 'They'd think you a liar anyway'.

He waited a moment, then when a slight nod indicated understanding he rolled over on his back, cool morning air sweeping his sweaty body. He breathed deeply, eyes closing, feeling calmer and more relaxed than he could remember feeling in years. But the calm had a clarity to it, gone was the heavy fogginess that had clouded his mind for so long, he felt light and as though he could leave this bed and take hold of the world.

He could get used to this wonderful, addictive feeling and had no doubts as to the cause of it.

Upon this reflection he opened his eyes to see that very cause lifting himself shakily up on his arms. He watched the youth pull his knees under himself, limbs tangling in the messy sheets and crawl slowly to the edge of the bed. As he climbed gingerly from the bed and set about scooping his clothes carefully from the floor, Derek watched the fine rays of the morning fall upon the loose limbed figure, his skin looking translucent with a sheen of sweat, the bones in his back as he bent over to step into his underclothes so vulnerable and exposed.

He continued to watch as he dressed stiffly and then, shoulders hunched, tears drying in tracks on his beautiful face, he made his way softly back across the carpet to the door. He opened it with a click and, as he was about to slip through without a look back, Derek called out 'boy!'

His hand gripped the door handle tightly and with a determined set to his shoulders, turned back into the room, face set like stone, emotionless except for his eyes, wide and unblinking, open wounds in such a young, perfect face.

Guilt warred momentarily with desire, before it slunk back defeated and forgotten to the recesses of Derek's mind. 'Please let cook know I'll be having dinner in my room tonight, be sure to bring it promptly at seven.' he smiled widely, his eyes pinned on the youth who simply swallowed and ducked his head down in confirmation and defeat and then slipped quietly from the room.

As the door clicked shut, Derek stretched out across the bed, limbs pleasantly warm and heavy, mind calm and replete, for the first time in many years looking forward to what the day would bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to anyone who's left kudos or a comment, I really appreciate it. I know this is not a story for everyone.
> 
> I'm currently writing a much longer arranged marriage/ harlequin inspired fic so I'll hopefully see you back here soon :)


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